


laissez les bon temps rouler(let the good times roll)

by iamtrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, drug/alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtrash/pseuds/iamtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that one fanfic where everyone lives in New Orleans</p>
            </blockquote>





	laissez les bon temps rouler(let the good times roll)

Author's note: it's my first fanfic so be gentle. if you have any suggestions, leave 'em in the comments

 

“Clarke.” Octavia was starting to grow impatient. It’s her lunch break at Cafe Du Monde and Clarke has been completely entranced in her sketchbook, occasionally taking sips from her coffee. It’s a slow day yet Octavia somehow still managed to get beignet powder all over her black apron and in her messy bun.

“Clarke!” The blond head next to her furrowed her brow in concentration. She was so close to finishing her sketch. She’d been working on it all morning and just needed to get the eyes ri-

Which didn't happen because Octavia abruptly snatched her pad away from her grasp, rolling her eyes when she looked at Clarke’s drawing. “Oh, c’mon. Seriously? Again?”

“What?”  
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that every day you come in here to have lunch with me and end up drawing asshole Lexa and ignoring my drunk escapade stories!”  
“I know the stories, Octavia. I was there. Besides, she’s not an asshole.”  
Clarke looks up to see Lexa with her hair pulled back in braids taking orders at the front desk with a forced smile. Her uniform is always pristine with every button in place up to her collar.  
“You’re not allowed to say that until you actually talk to her.”  
Clarke shrugged taking her sketchpad back angrily. “I have talked to her. It just didn't go so well.”

 

It was a regular Saturday in New Orleans. Octavia was out for lunch to deliver food to Bellamy and the jazz band in front of the St. Louis cathedral. Clarke was sitting in Cafe Du Monde trying something new with her oil paints. She decided to paint Raven who looked half asleep across the street at their art station with her eyes closed and her head being held up by her small arms. Clarke stifled a laugh as she sees Murphy attempting to stick a paint brush up Raven’s nose.

She’s shaken from her thoughts when a waitress walks in front of her. Clarke looks up, admiring her new view. She’s never seen this waitress before. Well that’s a lie, she’s definitely stared at her but the girl in front of her always works inside. But never has this girl been so close to her before and if Clarke was being completely honest, it was a little overwhelming because-

“Êtes-vous un artiste?”

Clarke stared up at the girl. Was that even English? It was hard to understand what was happening when the waitress turned her head to dig out a straw from her back pocket, and all what Clarke could think about was running her hand through the brunette’s braids and unbuttoning her blouse which left much to the imagination. The girl smiled at the blonde’s confusion and pointed at the book and paints next to her. “Your book. It says ‘Romanticism’ on the cover. Are you an artist?”

“Um, yeah. I’m an art major at Loyola and uh-... I’ve never seen you outside waiting tables before. Not that I know your station, I just have a friend who works here. She complains about how there’s never enough waitresses working the outside tables because apparently y’all manager is a hardass...,” Clarke’s eyes quickly glanced over the nametag, “Lexa.”

Clarke fumbled for words, she was not prepared to talk to-  
“Actually, I am the manager.” Lexa’s soft demeanor swiftly changed to a stoic expression as she stared intensely at Clarke.

Clarke’s stomach dropped. Wow, wait to go. First person she allowed herself to stare at after Finn’s death and she already ruined it with the first conversation.

“I am so so so sorry. Oh my god, I had no idea honestly. Oh crap.” Clarke covered her eyes with her right hand to escape the stare from Lexa. She slowly peeked up at the girl from the crevice between her fingers. “Please tell me I didn’t get Octavia fired.”

Lexa’s gaze softened. She took pity on the girl in front of her because she truly wasn’t aware and tried to hold in a laugh at how embarrassed Clarke looked.

“It’s fine. It’s just busy today and staff is running low. Now, if you’re done shit talking me, I’d like to take your order.”

 

Octavia rolled her eyes, taking a big bite out of her packed lunch and talking with her mouth full. “Yeah, I know. You almost got me fired, bitch.”

Clarke grimaced at Octavia who opened her mouth to present Clarke with a gross chewed up mouthful of a turkey sandwich.  
“Attractive. The guy on the ferry who you swoon over would totally get a hard on from that.”

Octavia swallowed her food quickly, playfully punching Clarke on the arm. Clarke raised her hand to rub her arm with a wince.  
“Dammit, O. I swear you’re like the Hulk’s non-green hot daughter.” This earned a wink from the girl who shoved the sandwich back in her mouth.

“First off, I don’t even know the guy’s name nor have I talked to him. Second, I know I’m hot but you’re also hot which brings me to my third point: Talk. To. Fucking. Lexa. Like actual talking. Stop drawing creepy pictures of her from a distance like an artsy serial killer and give her your number. It’s exhausting to look at you during lunch.”

Octavia immediately loosened up when she saw Clarke’s eyes hit the floor.  
“Clarke. It’s been a year. You've got to stop beating yourself up about this and get on with your life. Lexa’s hot.” She tried her best to ease the tension and lighten up Clarke’s mood. “Even though I hate her so much; like honestly, I only get a thirty minute break and maybe if she got laid soon it would help her loosen up or destroy the secret robot that’s taken over her body.”

This roused a smile out of Clarke as she put her hands up in defeat.

“Fine! I’ll give her my number or whatever.”  
Octavia looked up to the sky, whispering “Thank you, God,” and ripped Clarke’s sketch of Lexa out of her pad. “Octavia, what are you doing?” Clarke asked as she saw her friend scribble something at the bottom of the page.

“Taking the initiative to write your number down and give this to her.”  
Clarke didn't have time to protest as she watched Octavia already out of her seat and walking to the front desk.

______________________________________________________________________________

It was safe to say Clarke ran the hell out of there before Lexa could see the embarrassed look on her face. Not like she had anywhere to go though because her and Raven’s art station was directly across the street from the cafe. Even ‘art station’ was a strong phrase since it was just a table with Raven’s chemical art necklaces on it surrounded by Clarke’s paintings.

Clarke plopped in her chair next to John Murphy who was, once again, coaxed into giving Raven a break while she stood directly in front of the street performer statue 20 feet away from the station with her arms folded and a determined look in her eye.

“He’s not going to move, Raven! You’ve been staring at him for like an hour!”

“Shut it, Murphy!” she yells back, not breaking eye contact with the street performer who’s decked out in a sparkly silver suit and each patch of skin is covered in the same silver paint.  
He’s been smiling for two hours standing in the same pose and Raven knew he had to move at some point.

She slowly walks up to the performer’s face, giving him a threatening look.  
“One day, buddy. One day, I’m going to see you fucking move if it’s the last thing I do.”

He continues looking in the distance, smile still intact. Raven finally rolls her eyes and gives up, walking back to her station. Clarke immediately laughs as she sees the street performer move into a pose that looks a lot like he’s mimicking Raven a minute ago. His arms are folded and he stares at Raven with a sassy glare.

Raven stops dead in her tracks and slowly turns around to see the street performer looking at her. Clarke and Murphy knew she was about to explode and quickly got up out of their seats to guide Raven back to the station.

She sits in her chair, teeth gritting and taking deep breaths.  
“I. Am going. To kill that guy,” she says between breaths.

“Yeah, well as much as I would love to take over your job while you have weird foreplay with that guy over there, I have a class to attend.”  
Raven rolled her eyes while clenching her fists. Clarke, on the other hand, looked really proud at John and jumped up to hug him.

“Holy crap Murphy that’s awesome! I thought Jaha was kidding when he told me you were going to community college.”

John smirked. Clarke thinks he forgot how to make a genuine smile a long time ago, but she’ll take any day where Murphy isn’t causing trouble around the city.

“Yeah, congrats. You won’t have to go around scamming and pickpocketing tourists anymore.”  
Clarke put a hand up to her forehead and let out a deep sigh while John laughed at Raven’s comment.

“You know, it’s funny you mention that Raven because I just stole twenty bucks from your pocket.”

“What?!” Raven dug in her pocket and yes, in fact, he did steal her twenty bucks.

“How the fuck did he do that?” she yelled as Murphy was already out of sight.

Clarke couldn’t contain her laughter as she turned to see the street performer 2 feet away from their art station and holding a silver rose as if to give to Raven.  
Raven, however, was not laughing and snatched the rose out of his hand and began peeling the petals off.

“I hate you.” One petal falls. “I hate you so much.” Another petal falls.  
Once she peeled off the last petal, she threw the stem on the ground.  
“Would you look at that, I still hate you. Same as yesterday.”

Clarke smirked knowing damn well that was a lie. Every time Clarke looks at Raven threw the Café, she always catches Raven smiling at the guy when a little kid goes to poke him. Or when he’s making a funny pose or a funny face.

“C’mon, go take your lunch break. You get cranky when you haven’t eaten.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Why do you guys keep calling me that?”

________________________________________________________

Group Message: Raven, Wife, Lil Sis, Jasper, Monty, Murphy, Miller

Bellamy: hangin with the bf (picture of Bellamy and the street performer posing together)  
Raven: Are you fucking kidding me?  
Wife: photo creds  
Murphy: looks like you got some competition, raven  
Raven: WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE A PHONE MURPHY SINCE WHEN WAS THIS A THING  
Lil Sis: We all pitched in to buy him one…  
Jasper: Y’ALLL THE GIRL AT THE ROMAN CANDY CART AGREED TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME  
Bellamy: lol how desperate is she  
Monty: ^  
Miller: ^^  
Wife: bell control your sister. she just gave a girl my number without permission  
Lil Sis: It had to be done.  
Raven: Agreed.  
Bellamy: proud big bro  
Murphy: are we just ignoring the fact that jasper legit got a date or nah

_________________________________________________________

It was the first Saturday night of the month, meaning the gang gets together at Clarke’s big house, drinks, and catches up. They rarely get to see each other on the weekdays because Bellamy is always taking up random jobs to pay for his and Octavia’s house bills and Octavia, Clarke, Jasper, Monty, Raven, and now apparently Murphy have classes to attend to.

Jasper walked in Clarke’s room to see all his friends lounging around.

“So. Who’s going to help me get ready for my date Thursday?”

Octavia and Clarke look at each other in a state of panic, both touching their noses. “Nose goes!” Soon enough everyone had their finger on their nose except for Bellamy.

Bellamy looked up from his mythology book Clarke bought him for his birthday last year and groaned. Jasper, still at the door, put a hand up to his chest as if to look hurt.

“Godammit. Why is it always me? Monty, why can’t it be you? Y’all live next door to each other for Christsake.”

Miller, who’s been laying down in the corner of the room, suddenly sat up frowning.

“Sorry, Bellamy. Monty’s driving me to the airport Thursday to pick up my dad. He’s back from his station in the Middle East.”

Everyone looked at Miller in shock. How could he not tell them? He was the newest one to join the friend group, but they all knew each other’s secrets to some sort of level. Jasper always invited Monty over when he heard his dad yelling at him about grades from next door of their shotgun houses. They all knew about Murphy’s past drug addiction, dealing around the city after his dad died, and how he’s been sleeping at the runaway house for a year. They all knew about Bellamy and Octavia’s mom who was sent to jail two years ago for drug possession. They knew about Raven’s scholarship to Tulane and how she took the first chance to get away from her mom’s abuse and how Finn tagged along. It was hard not to know about what happened to Finn and Wells in the runaway house a year ago and the emotional trauma and guilt it gave Clarke. Bellamy and Octavia still sleep over sometimes just to make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

But this? This was new. Miller’s only been hanging with them for a few months, playing trombone with Bellamy, Monty, and Jasper in the French Quarter on weekends.

Raven breaks the silence. She always does, and everyone is so grateful for that.

“Miller. You can tell us this shit, you know that right?”

Miller sighed, running a hand over his aftershave. “He’s coming back for good because of injuries.”

Octavia rummaged through her backpack, pulling out her makeup kit and smiling.  
“That’s a good thing isn’t it? I mean not that he’s injured; but he’s back for good.”

Miller returned her smile, “It is. It really is.”

Everyone’s face washed over with a wave of relief. The last thing they need is more pain within this group. Their smiles were quickly washed away when they heard the sound of a champagne bottle opening by one John Murphy.

Clarke scowled at him knowingly, “Please tell me you didn’t steal that bottle.”

John smirked, observing the bottle’s front inscription. “I actually didn’t. This is the first bottle I’ve bought with my own money.”

Raven’s mouth hung open. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Murphy?”

John rolled his eyes and took a quick swig from the bottle. “Don’t get too comfy Raven. Your twenty dollars helped me buy this.” This earned a quick slap to his arm from the girl.  
“Relax, asshole. I got a bottle of Captain Morgan for you.”  
Raven’s anger quickly diminished as she grabbed the bottle out of John’s bag.  
“You’re a saint, John Murphy.”

John laughed, not ready to stop teasing Raven. “I also saw that street performer guy at the store. We’re hanging out tomorrow.”

Raven rolled her eyes, clearly not believing the typical lies Murphy tells her everyday just to get under her skin. “I call bullshit. What’s his name?”  
His smirk was back, “Kyle.”  
__________________________________________________________

Hours pass and about everyone is either drunkenly limping to their homes or passed out in Clarke’s guestroom. Once Jasper and Monty brought out their pipe, they knew they’d be hungry in no time and like always, Bellamy was the last one to touch his nose. Clarke’s too high to pick up the mess they made, but she’ll worry about Abby tomorrow morning.

“What? You’re not staying the night?”

Octavia hated this. Whenever she couldn’t stay, Clarke would give her those stupid puppy dog eyes and look so hopeless. But she can’t skip another class, her teacher would possibly kill her or at least yell at her for a full 15 minutes like she did last week.

“I’m sorry, babe. I have class at 6 in the morning tomorrow.”

Clarke groaned, plopping herself on her bed and letting her hair go everywhere. “Stupid beauty school.”

Octavia smiles, throwing a pillow on Clarke which earned another obnoxious groan from the blonde. “Careful what you say around the girl who does your makeup for every date. Plus, you’ll have Bellamy to keep you occupied. Good luck with that by the way. He should be here soon.”

Octavia throws her purse over her shoulder and scans the room one last time to make sure she didn’t forget anything.

Clarke can’t help but think of how much she loves and relies on the Blakes. They’ve been with her through it all; her dad, Wells and Finn, the nightmares. Every panicky phone call at 2 in the morning was answered by a groggy Octavia or Bellamy who calmed her down in a few minutes.

“Octavia, I love you so much. You’re a radiant sun of life.”

Octavia smiled, taking this as her cue to leave. “Clarke every time you get high, you turn into a sentimental gross bitch. But, I love you too and if you need anything call me!”

______________________________________________________________

Bellamy bursts through Clarke’s bedroom door, waking up any ounce of tiredness she had at the smell of Taco Bell. His smile is quickly gone when he realizes everyone left already.

“Godammit. Every time.”

Clarke laughs, taking the box of tacos from his arms.  
“Don’t worry. We won’t have any problem eating all of these by ourselves.”

Bellamy sits across Clarke on the foot of the bed, folding his legs and taking a taco. “So am I talking to emotional high Clarke or ‘I just want to punch someone on GTA’ high Clarke?”

Clarke kicks Bellamy’s leg playfully. “Hop off my dick, Blake.”

Bellamy smiles, eating his taco. He loves these moments between him and Clarke; just them sitting in silence, watching Netflix, feeding each other popcorn while the other one is entranced in Grand Theft Auto. He’ll never tell Clarke, but this is his safe haven. This is where he doesn't have to pretend to be invincible or think about paying bills and visit hours to the parish jail.

They sit together in a comfortable silence for what seems like endless minutes.  
Bellamy’s eyes stay put on one particular spot of Clarke’s bedsheets, thinking of his words carefully.

“Clarke, do you think O can sleep here for a few days?” Clarke sighs, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. She was in no mood to ignore the reasoning behind this reoccurring question.

“Bell, you know you guys are always welcome in my house. You don’t need to be some prideful asshole about money and independency.” Clarke smirks, looking up at him. “Besides, I’m fairly certain Abby loves you guys more than me.”

Bellamy throws his wrapper in the box, “Fine. I just don’t want to seem like a burden is all,” he says getting up to find GTA on Clarke’s movie/video game shelf. He travels his fingers over every disc case and tries to ignore the pile of movies her and Finn used to watch at the end of the shelf. It’s always looked untouched since that night last year. Before he could process what he was doing, the pile was in his hands.

“Bellamy, what are you doing?”

He starts placing every movie in random places on the shelf. “You’ll thank me later,” he turns around, holding up the GTA case with a smile. “Now. Ready to run from the police with me?”

Clarke smiles, thankful for this dark head idiot standing in front of her, “Always.”

______________________________________________________________

Clarke remains sitting in the passenger’s seat, listening to Abby’s endless scolding of the house’s condition a few nights ago. She knows Abby will get over it eventually, she always does. Besides, she’s probably just trying to distract herself from where she and Clarke are going towards: the cemetery.

They've been doing this for years: visit Clarke’s dad on his birthday, set up a picnic around his grave, and re-water the flowers they've planted surrounding it. It’s peaceful, nice, and one of Clarke’s favorite days because for once she feels like a family. It’s been a long time since she’s felt that way.

“I walked into the bathroom that morning and Murphy was passed out in my tub cuddling with a sponge.”

Clarke laughs at that one, giving herself a mental note to high five Murphy when she sees him next. She tries to cover up her laugh with a cough, but it doesn't seem convincing considering the death stare Abby is giving her.

They pull up to a stop and Clarke notices her mom’s lack of effort to unbuckle her seat belt. She sighs, grabbing her bag from the floor. “You’re not coming, aren't you?”

Abby looks guilty, trying her best to remain eye contact with her daughter. “I have a meeting with young med interns today. I’m sorry, Clarke. Tell him I love him.”

Clarke nods her head understandably, and climbs out the car. It’s always been like this; Abby constantly working and distant. Jaha was the same way which was how her and Wells became such close friends. She walks through the gate, taking in all the families dressed in black while walking the familiar path to her dad’s grave. For a 21 year old, Clarke has lost too many people and she hates to see the little children’s faces when their loved one is gently lowered underground.

She smoothens out her Saints blanket in front of her dad’s tombstone and rummages through her bag for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich she made. They were his favorite. Clarke’s gotten so comfortable talking to a headstone that she doesn’t even notice the strange looks people give her while passing by.

“Oh my god and you should see Octavia’s teacher. She has a uni brow and she’s a beauty school teacher. Like, who was in charge of hiring her? And this year during Mardi Gras, Monty got his first kiss from a cute drunk boy. Bless his heart. Also, holy shit! Murphy is in college right now for business. I’m actually so proud of that kid.”

She sits there in silence watching the people around her, occasionally breaking off a piece of her sandwich to eat. She misses this: being able to tell him everything, listening about his day at work and his stupid coworkers, showing him her artwork. She’s about to close her eyes while leaning against the headstone until she hears someone walk up behind her.

“Hi.”

Clarke quickly turns around and looks up, squinting her eyes from the sun’s glare to see who’s talking. When the person walks out of the sun’s direction, Clarke is surprised to see Lexa standing there in front of her. She doesn’t have the usual white button down uniform she’s required to wear nor his her hair pulled back in braids. Clarke admires her messy bun and dark rimmed glasses and travels her eyes down her body, taking in her short sleeved gray shirt and how great her black leggings look on her and holy crap is that an arm tattoo?

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Clarke quickly shook her head, motioning for Lexa to sit with her; thankfully, she does. She then realizes she hasn't said a word to this girl and has done nothing but stare at her.

“Hi.” Clarke mentally slaps herself on the forehead, but sighs an air of relief when she sees Lexa’s faint smile.

“You ran off the other day before I could say thank you for the drawing.”

‘Great.’ Clarke thought to herself as she felt blood rushing to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry about that. Octavia has a knack for embarrassing me.”

Lexa shook her head, finding Clarke’s red cheeks to be very endearing. “Don’t feel embarrassed. It was really sweet.”

“Thanks. Also sorry about that time I called you an asshole, if it’s any consolation I don’t think you’re anywhere close to being an asshole,” Lexa tried not to laugh as this pretty blonde who kept rambling, “You’re actually the opposite of an asshole. Oh! And sorry about the number thing, Octavia put it there. I mean not that I don’t want you to have my number..”

“Clarke-“

“I was totally going to give you my number eventually because you’re really pretty and..”

“Clarke-“

Clarke’s cheeks grew redder when she realized what she just said, “I’m sorry. I ramble a lot when I’m nervous.”

Lexa couldn’t contain her breathy laugh as Clarke grew very focused on a piece of grass to refrain from embarrassing herself any further. She just wanted to find the right words to say.

“Do you want a pb and j sandwich? I made an extra for my mom, but she’s not here today.”

Lexa leaned back on her arms, staring at Clarke and how the sun shone on her blonde hair.  
“No thanks, I ate before I came here.”

Clarke desperately wants to ask her why she’s here, but doesn’t want to have to explain why she’s here as well. Besides, it looks like Lexa rather not talk about it either.

The way Lexa is sitting with her eyes closed as she takes in deep breaths, makes Clarke want to take out her sketchpad she brought and just draw this moment. The way the sun is reflecting off of her glasses and the way she licks her lips as she taps out what seems like a text and h-

Both of them hear a vibrating sound come from Clarke’s back pocket.  
Clarke digs it out thinking it can be an emergency because all of her friends know not to text her today until at least 3 o’clock. She doesn’t recognize the new number texting her until she looks up at Lexa grinning.

(504) 427-3436: You’re very pretty.

Clarke raises an eyebrow playfully, then texts back what she hopes is a challenging response.

Coffee Clarke: wow. never suspected you to be the cheesy type.

This earned a genuine laugh from the brunette as she looked up at Clarke.

“Would it be cheesy of me to ask you out in the middle of a cemetery?”

And the red cheeks were back. “Uh-no! Not at all.”

Lexa smiled and started to lean forward causing Clarke’s breath to hitch as she looked at Lexa’s lips unashamedly. She gently removed a piece of grass from Clarke’s hair, whispering, “Got it.”

Lexa sat up abruptly, smirking as Clarke sat there clearly still in a trance the brunette just put her in. “Tonight at 7? New Orleans Spirit?”

Clarke nodded, unable to get out any words as Lexa walked backwards towards her car.

“Great. I’ll text you the details.”

________________________________________________________

Group Message: O, Husband, Raven, Murphy, Monty<3, Miller, Jasper

Clarke: good god O, what have you gotten me into  
O: What’d I do this time?  
Clarke: i have a date. with NOT an asshole Lexa  
Murphy: Alright guys. According to the polls we all took, Monty seems to be the closest.  
Husband: Dammit, if Lexa could’ve just asked you out tomorrow I would've won.  
Jasper: This blows.  
Clarke: haha. y’all are joking right?  
Raven: Definitely, Clarke.  
Miller: why does Monty always win these polls?  
Raven: He’s Asian.  
Monty<3: ^  
Clarke: i hate all of you.  
Monty<3: Love you, Clarke. I’ll buy you a box of gushers with my winnings.  
Clarke: correction: i hate all of you except for Monty.  
Clarke: so…who’s coming over to help me get ready?  
O: Bitch, I’m already at your door.  
Murphy: omg totezzzz<33xoxo ur gonna look so cayute 2night gurlxDDD!!  
Clarke: murphy go a w a y  
Jasper: ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS RN  
Husband: sorry jasper, you don’t have boobs for me to stare at


End file.
